My 16-year-old sister was crying quiet tears by the door at the mom that walked out on herself. My mom, a misunderstood woman, a disrespected woman, a frightened, insecure young woman - I now understand her better than I did as an eight-year-old child. My mom was a mom-child - she had no parenting lessons, or positive Anishinaabekwe role models, only residential school. The nuns’ stern looks, the priests silently pulling teenage Anishinaabekwe girls by the wrists to a place where their screams or cries won’t be heard. The big long dormitory cold and dark and sad with little baby girls wimpering in the night. These were my mom’s parents.
— Judy Da Silva, “Hashinoqwah” in This Is An Honour Song: Twenty Years Since the Blockades, ed. Simpson and Ladner (via spunkmate